


Recovery

by Accal1a



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s05e10 Status Asthmaticus, Tears, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accal1a/pseuds/Accal1a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo didn't leave Stiles uninjured after their fracus. In fact Stiles wasn't prepared for just how angry Theo was going to become.</p><p>Scott finds him in a mess; and maybe this is exactly what they needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HurtStiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurtStiles/gifts), [totallyaverageteen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=totallyaverageteen).



> This was actually an anonymous prompt on [Hurt-Stiles'](http://hurt-stiles.tumblr.com) blog (which is a quality place for all things Stiles whump). If you come forward, Anon, I'll gift this to you too.
> 
> I really hope you like it and it's what you wanted, I had great fun writing it. Hope you get better soon, sweetie.

Stiles wasn’t sure what had possessed him to do it. 

He chuckled to himself about his choice of phrasing; because wasn’t that just the point? There was something fundamentally broken inside of him and that was why the Nogitsune had chosen him in the first place. Honestly it seemed like a bit of a miracle that he hadn’t killed anyone else before now. He could still remember the glee of the kill, sometimes missed the feeling of blood against his skin. He shook it off most of the time; which is why he wasn't surprised it'd come back to haunt him.

He went to town on Theo, punching him repeatedly in the face, straddling his body so he could get better access; and knowing his knees were bleeding from the prolonged contact with the gravel-strewn ground.

To begin with, Theo didn’t fight back, just laughed at him. This made Stiles see red and made him punch harder; sure that he was going to do his hand some damage on the creature’s body if he didn’t stop soon – and knowing he didn’t really want to. He’d been played, they’d all been played and the cathartic nature of bloodying Theo was not lost on him.

“What have you done to Scott?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Stiles punched again – or tried to. Theo’s hand reached up and grabbed his fist, twisting his arm as he did so. It caused Stiles to cry out in pain; and for the shooting pain to move up his arm and into his shoulder. It hardly seemed fair that both of his shoulders were now painful.

Before he could think too much about the new situation, their positions were quickly reversed and Theo was wailing on him. Stiles tried to raise his hands to at least protect his face but Theo had managed to kneel directly on his wrists when he’d flipped them. Stiles wriggled impotently under the onslaught, feeling his eyebrow split and unsure as to whether he just felt his jaw break.

When Theo lent back slightly to start on Stiles’ ribs (and he definitely felt one of those crack), he smirked down at him.

“You’re _pathetic_ , Stiles.”

Stiles looked up through a haze of red, this time not due to anger; and wheezed at Theo, annoyed that he couldn’t make his voice any stronger but injecting as much venom into it as possible.

“At least I’m not trying to create a pack out of someone else’s leftovers.”

He was pleased about the jab; but the subsequent head hit and the darkness which swam over him was less than positive.

~~~

“Stiles! Stiles?”

Stiles could hear his name but it seemed to be coming from a long way away. All he could feel was pain and he desperately wanted to swim back down into the darkness so he wouldn’t need to feel it. The darkness was safe.

“STILES!”

The voice seemed familiar; but Stiles couldn’t place it. He wanted to tell it to shut up, that he had a headache and did they have to shout at him; but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words, his head a jumble of confusion.

What had happened? All he could remember was turning up at a car lot to speak to Theo about…Theo. Theo is what happened.

He was awake then, all thoughts of Scott instantly expelling the darkness. If Scott was in danger, he needed to do something; needed to go after the bastard who’d managed to fracture the pack. He’d probably take his bat this time though. He wasn't delusional enough to think it would make _much_ of a difference; but at least it would be something.

“Stiles?”

Scott could see Stiles starting to stir and he was flooded with a sense of relief so deep it nearly bowled him over. He hadn’t realised that he thought Stiles was too injured to live.

“Stiles?” He said again gently, touching his friend on the shoulder, leaching some of the considerable pain he felt coursing through his body. “Stiles, are you okay?”

“Ask a stupid question…” Stiles managed to get out, annoyed that his voice was no louder than a whisper.

“Right, yeah. Sorry. I just…”

“Get me up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Scott, I’m sure.”

Stiles gritted his teeth, knew that it was going to hurt but didn’t want to be lying on the ground anymore, lying on the ground felt too much like defeat. Tears rose unbidden when he moved, his chest screaming at him and his head swimming. He moved slightly to the side and threw up.

“I think I’ve got a concussion.”

“I think you’ve probably got more than that.” Scott replied.

Stiles crawled away from the puddle of his shame, wincing as the gravel bit into his hands and knees; but not really caring.

“Stiles?”

“Can’t stand yet; but don’t want to sit next to my own sick.”

“Fair enough.” Scott replied, scooting back on his bottom to the place where Stiles had almost collapsed again. It was only about 10ft away from where he had woken up; but the effort had clearly been too much for his friend. He reached out a hand to steady him and Stiles showed him a look with such naked gratitude, he could barely stand it.

Returning to leeching the pain, gasping slightly as he did so, he appraised Stiles. Stiles looked awful. He was mercifully not too bloody; but Scott knew there was no way the amount of pain he was feeling could be explained from the busted look of his best friend’s face. There were bound to be some internal injuries.

“Can I…” Scott started, not sure whether he was even allowed to be touching Stiles at the moment after the way he had acted. He was still furious with him; but he wasn’t going to let Stiles’ actions stop him from helping him out when he needed to.

Stiles looked up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at, revelling in the werewolf pain relief he was accepting. He wasn’t sure whether he should be accepting it but wasn’t able to pull away. If Scott was willing to give it to him, he wasn’t going to say ‘no’. He was proud; but not so proud that he couldn’t accept help when he was this broken. He knew he was pretty beaten up; but it was worth it for the sure and certain knowledge that Scott was safe, that Theo hadn’t got to him.

“Scott! Scott, Theo.” Stiles struggled away from his friend, groaning in pain when the lightning pain shot across his ribs again, despite Scott’s ministrations.

“Not now, Stiles.”

“But…”

“Stiles!”

Stiles knew that was partially Scott’s ‘Alpha voice’, knew that he didn’t have to obey it; but still feeling like he should anyway. If Scott wasn’t worried about the Theo situation, he wasn’t worried either. Much.

“Okay.” Stiles said, defeated.

Scott raised Stiles’ top, noticing the bruises that were already forming and barely restraining the anger in his voice. It wasn’t Stiles he was angry with. Well, not much.

“What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?”

“You can’t fight a werewolf!”

“Chimera.”

“Semantics.”

“SAT Prep again?”

“Stiles! This is serious.”

“What do you want from me Scott? I didn’t go looking for a fight! I thought Theo was going to _help_! I’d finally been convinced that Theo was good! Finally decided that maybe you lot were right! Guess I was the right one wasn’t I? Guess you can’t avoid the fact that THEO. IS. EVIL. Now, can you?”

“I…”

“Shut up, Scott.”

Stiles’ anger was rising, he could feel the rage descending again and he knew it was partially because Scott had taken his pain away. Now he wasn’t blinded by the hurt, he was able to think more clearly; and he was angry. How dare Scott ball him out about this? He jerked away from Scott slightly, enough that his ex-best friend’s hand was removed from the skin at his neck. The pain returned; but it grounded him. He didn’t want to take anything from Scott if it was given out of some form of obligation.

“Stiles…”

“Who else was I going to call?” He said quietly.

“What?”

“Tell me Scott, what were my options? Let’s assume I didn’t think Theo was sketchy; let’s assume for a moment that he was one of the pack; let’s assume he was the only person who understood what I’d done and why I’d done it; let’s assume that my _own best friend_ didn’t believe me when I tried to explain what happened; let’s assume some stupid supernatural rubbish had happened in Beacon Hills again and I needed to tell someone. Who the fuck else did you think I was going to call?”

“Stiles, I’m…”

“Don’t you dare, say you’re sorry.”

“We should have listened to you.” Scott said carefully.

“You think?”

Stiles was suddenly bone weary; and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just his injuries that were making him so. He was angry with Scott; but actually in this moment he just needed someone to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright; and unfortunately that wasn’t something that Scott was going to do.

“I’m going to go.”

Stiles moved to stand but the pain in his abdomen caused him to gasp involuntarily and he sunk back down to the ground. He tried again moments later, this time gritting his teeth and just willing his body to stand. He knew he swayed, knew Scott was by him in a second; but didn’t want to show any more weakness if he could help it.

“You can’t drive.” 

“I’ll be fine.”

“Stiles, you are _not_ driving.”

“What do you care?”

The question was out before Stiles had given it much thought and he immediately regretted it. He didn’t want another one of these conversations, he was too tired, too much in pain to deal with it. The look of hurt which crossed Scott’s face seemed genuine; but Stiles was convinced Scott would have been shocked with anyone saying what he did.

“What do I _care_?” Scott asked, incredulously.

He started to reach for Stiles again to steady him whilst they walked to the car; but Stiles pulled away. When his best friend started to walk to the drivers side, Scott let go of him and stood in front of him instead.

“You’re not driving, Stiles.”

Stiles gave him a measured look; but eventually handed over the keys, slamming them into Scott’s hand and pulling away from the contact immediately.

“Fine. If you crash it, you’re paying for it. My insurance is high enough as it is.”

Scott couldn’t believe they were talking about cars; but if that was what Stiles needed, then of course he’d start the conversation like that. He’d calmed down considerably since their conversation in the rain; and although he couldn’t understand or condone Stiles’ actions, he also wasn’t going to throw away 13 years of friendship – even if the speed-bump in their relationship was a dead body.

They drove in silence, Scott grinding the gears, not being used to driving a car. Stiles winced every time it happened but didn’t comment. When they pulled up outside Stiles’ house, Stiles just held out his hands for the car keys and then opened the door.

“That’s it?”

Stiles, who was half-way out of the door, turned back, shutting the door.

“What?”

“That’s it? Thanks for being there to see me after I was severely beaten up. Thanks for driving me home. Bye?”

“What more do you want me to say, Scott?”

“I want to get back to normal.”

“I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

“Stiles, I…”

“Look, I don’t need this right now, okay? I need to have a hot bath and take enough Tylenol to knock me out. Then I need to sleep for a week. I don’t need another argument with you right now.”

“I wasn’t going to argue.”

Stiles looked across at his ex-best friend who was exuding sympathy and trying the tactic he used with his mother when he wanted something. It was almost a simpering tone; and Stiles hated it.

“Oh just shut up Scott, would you?” He leant his head against the rest, closing his eyes for a moment. Without opening them, he continued, “I just don’t have the energy for this right now.”

There was a silence and Stiles had almost forgotten that Scott was there when he started talking again.

“I think…I think I may have overreacted.”

Stiles laughed. It was totally without mirth; but the statement was so true it was tragic. He felt his eyes well up; but was determined not to cry. He didn’t want Scott to have the satisfaction that he’d broken their relationship again.

“I can’t…” Stiles said, reaching for the door handle again.

Scott’s hand on his arm stopped him; and he was pretty sure he was employing some werewolf strength because he was rooted in spot.

Stiles sighed. “Okay, say your piece.”

There was a lot of false starts and a few aborted sentences but finally Scott said. “I should have listened to your side of it. We were under a lot of pressure; but that’s no excuse. We’ve been through a lot you and I and I should have trusted you; should have known there was more to it. I need…I think I need you to forgive me.”

Stiles looked over at Scott; and saw his puppy dog eyes staring back. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hit him or hug him.

“Forgive you?” Stiles echoed.

“Yeah.”

There was another pause; and Stiles used it to will his eyes to stop watering. Now really wasn’t the time to blubber all over the place.

“You didn’t trust me, Scott. I can’t just forgive that.”

“I know, I know and I should have. The pack was fracturing and Theo was manipulating all of us; and I just didn’t handle the situation very well. I know that, it’s all on me…but I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Stiles echoed again. He seemed to be having trouble forming words of his own.

“Yes, I totally screwed up. I so totally screwed up.”

Stiles wanted to accept the apology, wanted everything to go back to normal; but he couldn’t reconcile what they’d had before, with what Scott had done.

He leant his head back against the rest again, resolutely not looking at Scott. Everything hurt; and now apparently Scott wanted to pull of the band-aid on this wound too. At least it was happening all at once.

“I can’t…” Stiles started, his voice betraying him and cracking on the last word.

Scott was instantly there, instantly putting his hand on Stiles’ forearm. Giving him support; and surreptitiously leaching some pain as Stiles wasn’t looking. 

“I can’t…” Stiles said again, tears falling freely now. 

He pulled away from the seat, only to slam back into it again when his ribs protested. Maybe he should go to the hospital; except no, that was a bad idea, there lay enough money to buy a small country. He couldn’t put his dad through that again, especially as it was his fault. He should have stuck to his guns and kept declaring Theo was evil, maybe then all the mess could have been avoided. In a way he felt he deserved the beating he got; but that was his head rather than the pain receptors. The pain receptors were pretty pissed off with him at the moment.

He swiped at his face angrily with the arm Scott wasn’t holding, annoyed that he was leaking and not being able to stop.

“Stiles…”

Stiles breathed deeply, trying to summon some words. He’d been speechless a handful of times in his life; and this was apparently one of them. Great.

“You didn’t believe me, Scott.”

“I…”

Stiles waved him off.

“You didn’t _believe me_. I tried to tell you so many times after it happened; but I couldn’t manage it. Eventually you confronted me; and you seemed to know what you were talking about. I had to come clean then, had to tell you I’d done something you found abhorrent. I’ve known for weeks that I would lose you; but it was still hard to cope with, okay?”

Stiles moved to get out of the car for the third time; but Scott’s grip was absolute. He’d said his own piece, listened to Scott unburden his own guilt; and now he just wanted to go home now and sleep for 100 years. He knew he was crying hard now, knew that Scott could see it, knew that it was the sort of crying that needed to take it’s course rather than one he could will stopped. 

He’d cried in front of Scott before; but this was different, this was a break-up, a bereavement. This was loss pure and simple and it hurt.

“Stiles.” Scott said quietly. “Stiles, will you tell me what happened?”

Stiles met his eyes then, seeing tender compassion and no judgement. He knew his own eyes crinkled, unsure whether he should do what was asked of him. In the end he just decided that he may as well get it all over with. He might be able to find some new friends in college.

“The Jeep died again and he found me in the lot at school. We grappled for a bit; but then I managed to reach my wrench and hit him enough that I could get away. I ran into the school, I didn’t know what else to do.”

So he started to tell the story. He couldn’t stop crying. He knew that his breathe hitched in places, that at points he was crying so hard Scott may not have been able to hear him; but it was good to get it all finally off his chest.

“He said he was going to eat my legs. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? Of all the things a monster could shout at me…I mean it wasn’t very original was it? Honestly some of these things, I feel like maybe they need a manual or something. Cliché’s to avoid when going after victims or something.”

Scott was no stranger to run on sentences and tangents from Stiles; but he knew instantly that this was different. This was Stiles getting round to the hard parts of the story in a jovial manner. This was Stiles insulating himself from the incident. He hadn’t moved his hand; and now he stroked a thumb along the underside of Stiles' forearm. Stiles looked down when he started; but didn’t pull away, which Scott took to be a good sign.

“I climbed the scaffolding; which was stupid really. You never go upstairs in a horror movie do you? Everyone knows that; if you do, you die first. I was a total idiot; but I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to get away from him, you know? Right, so I was climbing and he was climbing after me; and he had a grip on my legs and I was fighting for my life, well at least my legs I suppose. I found…”

Stiles breathe hitched again and he moved his arm out from under Scott. Running both hands through his hair, wincing when he moved because of his wounds, he tried to start again. When he realised he couldn’t talk, he buried his head in his hands and truly sobbed. 

This wasn’t just about the murder he’d committed, this was about Scott not believing him, not believing _in_ him. Hiding it from him had been sensible, because as soon as he found out he’d dropped Stiles. He’d known deep down that that was what was going to happen, known that the price of truth was loss; and yet he couldn’t lie to Scott. The irony was, he needed his support now more than ever, this was too big to be on one set of shoulders. He needed his best friend; and he didn't have one anymore. He couldn’t talk to his Dad, couldn’t bring him into this. He didn’t want to put him in an awkward position; and chimera or no chimera Donovan was still officially listed as missing in the Beacon Hills County sheriff’s department.

Stiles groaned, wiping his cheeks and sitting back up, wincing as he did so. He spoke quickly, quietly and with precision. It could be done with speed, it would make the conversation faster and he could be alone.

“I found a pin in the scaffolding. It was holding up this board thing that I assume painters stand on. It wasn’t very stable though; and actually I don’t know whether maybe we should put in a note in to Health & Safety about it; I mean someone should look into it. There could be an accident; another accident. There could be a human accident. Um...”

Scott put his hand back on Stiles arm. Stiles looked down at it as if it were a foreign intrusion; but he didn’t pull away and he didn’t say anything to indicate he didn’t want Scott there, so he stayed.

“I pulled it. I just wanted to give myself a little more time. Maybe knock him out and then I’d be able to get out and start that stupid Jeep and get out of there. But…” Stiles faltered, then puffed up his chest and jumped in, let the chips fall where they may. “But it didn’t work like that. All this stuff fell down; and when I turned to look. When I turned to look, he was dead. He’d been impaled by some piece of falling scaffolding; it was like a one in a million chance that would happen. I mean seriously, that the scaffolding fell and at just the right angle that he fell onto it too? If I hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I’d have believed it happened.”

There was a silence after Stiles’ speech. Stiles thought it was because Scott was disgusted with him; but Scott just didn’t quite know how to phrase his next comment. He didn’t want to say anything wrong; but even so, he needed to say something. An admission like that needed a response.

“Did you, I mean…were you hurt?”

Stiles pulled his T-shirt away from his shoulder, his body protesting again as he moved.

Scott took in a very deep breath, staring at the oddly shaped wound. It sort of looked like a star, with gaps in it. He suddenly remembered Stiles telling him that his jeep hood had fell on him. That had been weeks ago now; and he realised that Stiles had been dealing with all of this on his own for all that time. No wonder he had got distant, no wonder he was angry when Scott didn’t believe him.

Scott believed him now though, he’d listened to his friend’s heartbeat. It was a habit he’d started employing more and more recently. He was a little worried about it actually, it seemed voyeuristic to check on someone’s heartbeat; check whether they were telling the truth; check whether they were stressed. If people didn't want to tell you how they were feeling, having an itimate knowledge of their emotions and heartbeat seemed intrusive. Being a werewolf was a minefield of 'awesome things' and 'things we weren't sure about and needed to work out how to get them into a 'real world' context'. Honestly it gave Scott a headache sometimes.

“I’m telling the truth, Scott. Whatever you heard. Whatever you think happened. Believe me, believe I had no choice. Please, just believe me.”

Stiles’ sobs had renewed; and Scott made a snap decision. Pulling Stiles’ forearm towards him, he wrapped him up in a giant awkward sideways hug. Stiles pulled away a little to begin with; but then actually pulled Scott closer, sobbing into his shoulder. His whole body was shaking and Scott didn’t know what to do. Waves of despair were wafting off Stiles. It was so pronounced it was almost too much for Scott; but he carried on stroking Stiles’ back and murmuring random pieces of information at him until he calmed down.

When Stiles was spent, he pulled away proper. “Sorry.”

“No, you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“Pretty sure I got snot on your shoulder.”

“Pretty sure I borrowed this T-Shirt from you.”

It was banter; but it wasn’t up to their normal standard; and they both knew it.

“So you believe me then?” Stiles asked in a quiet voice after a moment's silence. Afraid to know the answer; but desperate to know the answer nonetheless.

“Yes, I believe you.” Scott replied, then making a new mistake, continued onwards. “I could hear your heartbeat. Slow and Steady wins the…I don’t know, ‘Truth Cup’.”

“Didn’t think that analogy through, did you?”

“Like you could have done any better.”

They lapsed into silence after that.

“We’ve got a pack meeting tomorrow at 7.” Scott said, still trying to smooth over the giant crack.

“Okay.”

“Will you be there?”

“If I can.” Stiles evaded. 

He wasn’t sure whether he was up for seeing the whole pack. He didn’t want their sympathy for his injuries; didn’t want their statements that the manipulation could have happened to anyone; that there was just nothing he could do. It was too much like the placations he got after the Nogitsune; and he couldn't be reminded of that too much at the moment. That was one trauma too many. They didn’t know the half of it either; and Stiles found himself wishing that Derek was here. A taciturn wolf he could get along with at the moment, there was certainly no bouncing around or fussing where Derek was concerned.

Suddenly his brain caught up with what Scott had said. Scott had listened to his heartbeat to check he was telling the truth. 

Scott now knew without a doubt that Stiles was being truthful, which was great; but also incredibly insulting. What Stiles didn’t like about the situation was that Scott had had to check. He apparently wouldn’t have believed him without the evidence; and he wasn’t sure how they got back from that. He thought they were closer than that, thought they always had each other’s backs even when the odds were massively stacked against them. This was going to be a long road to trust again, on both sides. Stiles knew he wasn’t entirely at fault for the unfortunate incident. He had lied about many things: how he’d got his shoulder injury; where Donovan was; what he’d done to him. It was a laundry list of crimes; and maybe the fact they had both wronged the other would make it easier to forgive.

Scott kept trying to apologise; but Stiles was sick of apologies. He merely waved him off if things were getting out of hand. 

Stiles spent most of his time detailing his reasonings behind everything that came out of his mouth at pack meetings; like he needed to validate everything – making sure there was absolutely no doubt as to why he was saying the things he was. Scott knew that was his fault, knew that trust was something that was easily lost and very difficult to regain. He knew he was overly optimistic at times; but he was confident that they could do it. They were Scott and Stiles; and 13 years of friendship could weather any storm; even a storm that they themselves had made. 

They’d dealt with worse problems.


End file.
